


Poisoned Life | A Harry Potter Fanfiction.

by Hufflepuff_King



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Abused Harry Potter, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Gore, Harry Potter - Freeform, Horror, Lord Voldemort - Freeform, Rape, Severus Snape - Freeform, Underage Rape/Non-con, vernon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflepuff_King/pseuds/Hufflepuff_King
Summary: At a young age, poison was injected into a young boy as his parents died. This poison, creating a life where he can't ever catch a break.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Little Shit.'

**Description **

* * *

**At a young age, poison was injected into a young boy as his parents died. This poison, creating a life where he can't ever catch a break.**


	2. Chapter 2

Cold. Hairs stood up from skin as the body shivered. The cold steel gasping at it, causing a burning. He jolted away from the steel only for another part to touch, he could never escape the ghastly grasp of the cold. Bones distended from elastic, an organ that covered the boy's body in attempts to protect everything inside but it was all too easy to slash him up in ways unfathomable. A sickly concoction of purple and black made the boy seem like an alien, something nothing humanly possible. It would certainly strike fear in anyone that saw his complexion.

Daunting footsteps came closer and closer, crossing different types of flooring. Laminate, carpet and more carpet then laminate again. Once they hit the laminate again a torrent of numbers spilt into the boy's mind as he counted down; knowing exactly how long it would take the man to get there, for it happened every day but nothing prepared him for this today. 

_10\. 9. 8_.

The treads paused and slow thumps against weak wood now rang through the basement. The boy's body tensed up in increasing fear, sending chills down his showing vertebrae thus making him even colder. 

_7\. 6. 5. 4._

Every two counts was a step down the creaking stairs, the man finding it hard to get down them. He was scared of falling due to his massively overhanging gut. 

_3\. 2. 1._

As he got to one the walrus looking of a man stood in front of a darkened cage, covered in maroon coloured liquid that was now dried up. His neck was short and covered by the excessive amount of fat pockets in his face and chin for he ate too much for his body to burn. He wasn't too tall but tall enough to intimidate a child especially one that was only four. He had that kind of stereotypical dad look, facial hair and all. Yet he was far from a loving father, well he was to his biological son but quite the opposite to his wife's nephew.

"Hello, Potter." He chuckled menacingly. "Are you ready for today's fun?" He asked rhetorically as he turned and waddled slightly round the other side of the cage. It was a tiny thing, like a rounded birdcage for an owl with rust and grime covering it. He couldn't turn around and the smell down here was horrendous. If you weren't use to it, it would burn your sinuses and dry your eyes out at the same time. There was vomit mixed with faeces and other bodily functions. He was treated like a dog used for fighting and this was his fight. 

A sudden lock turned and the monster under the little boy's bed opened the door. He grabbed the cuffs that were strapped tightly to the boy's ankles; causing a tender pain to burn within them. He cried out a blood-curdling scream. The scream of a four-year-old like nothing else. To anyone with a heart, it would make them cry in unison and try their best to make the child better and to take away their pain. They would hold them and tell them everything will be okay; not this man, no he was a heartless creature made of stone. 

Tears rolled down Harry's now flushed pink cheeks, bubbles of snot following each sob. This man terrified him and he just wanted his parents back. "No." He cried. "Mummy! Daddy!" Harry's cries grew louder and louder as he was dragged out the safety of the cage. The harder he sobbed the more clear liquid seeped out of his nose; quickly covering his small and rounded face. 

His loud screams didn't stop Vernon, instead, it infuriated the repulsive man. Which in turn made his plans worse for the boy. "Shut up you pathetic little shit." He snapped as he dragged Harry under the light. "Look at you!" He slapped him across the face with a firm hand, a swarm of wasps stinging the child's face as it snapped to the side. "You've made a mess of yourself, and now it's all over my hand!" Vernon snapped angerly with a scoff. "No one is coming, no mummy, no daddy, no one," With that he smirked evilly and turned to the table of torture devices. 

"What to play with today..." He hummed quietly to himself as his hand run over different kinds of knives and such. "Hm, Perfect." Vernon turned back to the young boy who was now coughing and choking on his own saliva, nothing but phlegm travelled out of his mouth, his stomach was empty and he was starving so there was nothing to throw up. 

He cried and cried; looking up to the monster as he came. Harry fought against him as he was lifted up. He squirmed and squirmed as he tried to get out of Vernon's grasp. Which only came more pain for the boy, a punch to the stomach to be exact. "Stop it, you fucking brat." He growled in annoyance; tossing him onto a table like a piece of scrap cloth. Afterall to the Dursley's, that's all that Harry was. He had no use to them apart from Vernon having his fun. 

The table was cold against Harry's skin much like the cage was but this was new and he already knew he didn't like it. His spin ached and he could feel the constant burning of his skin increase as purple and black spread. Vernon was soon back with staps and belts, securing Harry to the table with a struggle. The little boy wanted to get away, not having learnt from the punch seconds ago. 

"Just stop it!" Vernon yelled and placed his hand against Harry's head; roughly shoving it back so he was forced to lay down, the straps holding him in place so he could no longer squirm and struggle. A flicker of silver brought green eyes to attention, a blade being the culprit yet the young boy had no idea what it was, only that with Vernon holding it that it would cause him pain. The man came closer and closer. A smirk sticking to his monstrous face. 

"Don't worry, this is just going to be a little fun." He laughed and pulled up the rags Harry wore, exposing his emaciated stomach. He cried and screamed as loud as he could in fear, causing his pants to grow wet, warmth for once spreading down his legs as he pissed himself. Vernon smelt the urine and his nose scrunched up in disgust. "Control yourself," He spat and shook his head before slowly proceeding. 

He held the blade in his right hand with a firm grip, his hand hovering over the boy's stomach. "Hm, what name shall I give you." He thought out loud. As he did he let the tip of the blade press against the skin. Due to him being a young age of four, his skin was so soft and easily cut so that action alone pierced the skin causing sticky scarlet to dribble out and roll down the skin in beads. The pain wasn't too bad yet but of course, he cried more and more, wanting to be back home instead of this cold place.

Then it came, a wave of excruciating pain and warmth flooded over the boy, the blade gliding over his body messily in attempts to create a word. It was much harder than he thought, not like pen on paper, it was much like a craft he would like to perfect. Crimson liquid spewed slowly from each cut, dripping onto the concrete floor and staining it red. The deathly fluid felt warm against both Vernon's and Harry's skin, it sticking to them in stains of scarlet. Harry hadn't seen much of this liquid and it just pulsed more fear through him. 

Misery, that's what this was. Just pure and utter misery. Harry was in agony and the hair on the back of his head drenched in phlegm, saliva and tears. He didn't stop crying and his throat went dry, it hurt his throat but he couldn't stop. The ache in his stomach was more than this boy could bear. It burnt and itched like it was happening over and over again. However, Vernon had stopped after what seemed like hours.

He stared at his work in pride, the letters far from straight and the cuts in different deepnesses. He couldn't have the boy die though so only the first layer of skin was broken which proved quite a challenge. It read 'Little shit.' underneath the red that continued to flow out. 

Instead of unstrapping the boy then and there, Vernon left him to lay in his own blood, spit and everything nasty. He left him and went upstairs to clean himself up to deal with Harry later. On the other hand, Harry cried himself to sleep on the table, it being surprisingly more comfortable than the birdcage he endured constantly. 


	3. Perfect Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia, Petunia. Harry's perfect peril.

Sitting in faeces, urine and vomit conjured a multitude of infections. Harry was covered in ammonia burns; painful red blisters of peeling skin. Due to the toxic smell of the ammonia, excessive mucus production came about him, not helping when he was crying when Vernon came as that in itself produced snot and mucus. All the bodily functions brought different flies and gross bugs that the boy himself was absolutely terrified of. He was such a young age so no one could really blame him. They had crawled over and started feasting upon his rotting flesh, they seemed to eat away at him in a slow rate but never stopped; like it was the only and best meal they ever had. Harry couldn't help but be envious of them, getting to eat whenever they pleased; even when he brushed them off, they just kept coming back for more and more. 

The cuffs around his ankles seemed to shrink and grow tighter, cutting through layers of skin and tendons slowly, causing a swelling to his legs as infection grew there too - he was one big infection - but in reality it was he that grew around them. The skin around the embedded shackles was had a moss green discolouration and produced puss in a disgusting colour. It produced a smell much like death itself.

Despite having all this happening to him for two years now, he was lucky to be alive and clearly not use to it all. Then again, would you? Every day he would cry out for his parents, hoping they would come back to him; refusing to believe any word his uncle would say about them. He loved them and he knew they loved him. Even at seven, Harry endured things no muggle or wizard could dream of having to endure. He truly was one of a kind, the boy who lived and the boy who is not truly living. Maybe they should change that to the boy who is alive but not living. After all people spoke of him as if they knew him without knowing what torture this child went through almost every single day. 

He now sat in the damp, waiting for the heavy footsteps he knew would soon come. It had gotten quieter upstairs and he knew that wasn't good. He uncomfortably moved his legs around, it being a slow and agonising movement of the chains digging in further and the rubbing of skin causing the blisters to burn in a fire of friction. Harry whimpered and tears fell, his pale cheeks too sickly to get red. 

That was when he heard it. His body shook and fear rose inside of him but it was different somehow. The steps where lighter, kinder almost. However, this did not cause Harry's fear to fade. He figured that maybe Vernon was wearing different shoes or lost weight or something even if that was unrealistic. Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine a world back at home, playing with his parents and being in a clean, friendly environment. This ceased to work as the numbers once again started rolling in.

_10\. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5._

There was a pause. Hope filled Harry and he prayed that Vernon changed his mind. He knew it was a long shot but the boy could try. The seven year old was already in immense pain and could feel his whole body getting weaker and weaker, he couldn't fight or struggle any more and it just made it worse. Vernon could do as he pleased and that thought alone was shiver worthy for anyone. 

_4\. 3. 2. 1. _

Harry's hope fell through and his chest collapsed. He sighed in disappointment and let himself wait for what was to come. Yet he didn't expect what was to truly come upon him tonight. His eyes closed before the person showed into the light. A woman stood in front of the tiny cage. Her hair was brown and crumped up into waves above and behind her ears. Her face was surprisingly kind, she was truly a mother figure but maybe she wasn't as kind as she seemed. Just like Vernon. 

"Harry, dear? Open your eyes." Her voice was kind and her eyes travelled over his beaten and bruised body. The maggots were enough to make her stomach flip and turn. Petunia hated her husband for doing this; sure she disliked the magic folk and despised her sister but this child did not deserve this treatment. She couldn't do anything about it though, so she felt like it would be the least she could do for her to look after him and patch him up for the weeks Vernon would be gone. As he was on a business trip.

Harry's eyes opened slowly, afraid but also curious. Upon seeing the woman he grew confused; not knowing who she was but her kind presence was comforting. He opened his mouth to speak whatever words he could but his throat caught and the child started coughing, his chest heaved and pain was evident in his face as saliva rolled out of his mouth from the loud cough. 

"Its okay, you don't need to speak but don't fear me okay? I'm going to help you." Petunia frowned in sorrow and felt bad for the boy with a hint of guilt. She could stop this but the boy's condition caused her fear of her husband to rise more. The woman walked around the back of the cage and opened the gate to it. 

"I'm sorry if this hurts," she whispered softly reached inside; picking the boy up. He was lighter than air itself and his bones could be felt in her hands. Harry cried out, his body throbbing all over but he didn't struggle. Somewhat trusting the woman's gentle touch. It was much different to Vernon's so he relaxed a little. 

Petunia carried Harry carefully up the steps and into the main building of the house. She looked down towards the boy every so often, he looked so beaten; like something she hadn't even seen before. He was covered in his own faeces and pee which she could tell caused his wounds to be infected, and he just looked so weak it was heart breaking. The aunt knew she couldn't change how Vernon treated Harry but she wasn't going to let him in that filthy basement and cage anymore. No matter how she would get Vernon to listen. There two weeks she was going to let Harry rest and heal. As much as humanely possible before her husband got back. 

She took Harry to the bathroom that had a shower in and gently set him on the ground; not caring if he would dirty the floor. Stepping over; she started to run a warm bath for him to soak and clean his wounds before heading of downstairs quickly to get some supplies to help look after the wounds and to stop the infection. Her and Vernon where a bit over the top with Dudley so kept a lot of unnecessary medication in just in case. Not that they would ever need it for him but Petunia was glad that they had got it all. For Harry's sake. 

Now in the warmth Harry stopped freaking so much, he looked around the room and smiled ever so slightly. It was so clean compared to where he was staying and the sound of water was music to his ears. He was so thirsty and hungry. Sure he was given water at least once a day and food every other but it wasn't much. It was the scraps. Like moldy fruit and stale bread. It was disgusting but Harry was starving. At the shallow thought of food Harry's stomach growled. Now in the new lighting Harry's eyes burned slightly and were having trouble to adjust but they were getting there.

Petunia soon came back upstairs; her arms full of everything she needed to help him. She crouched onto her knees. She knew this was going to hurt him but it would be different, it would be to help him not to cause him pain to see him suffer like Vernon did. She stayed silent but her eyes gave all the apologies Harry needed. She started with the worst, the shackles that were digging futher and futher into the skin. With a sigh, Petunia unclasped them; a scream echoing through the bathroom as she did. In return she grimanced and her eyes shut tightly. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered with a single tear rolling down her cheak. The whole process was excrutiating for Harry, every little single thing the woman did would hurt more than anything but Harry knew it would be over, he knew it would be better. Once all the maggots and other ghastly creatures were gone and there wasn't anything on Harry, she lifted him once again and gently placed him in the water. 

It stung like wasps all over yet also made him feel cleaner than ever. The water quickly turned to a rancid colour of a deep red; almost black. The water washed away all the puss and dried blood, making him feel so much better already. 

And thats what the two weeks was. Baths, antibiotics, food and a clean enviroment. Harry was actually somewhat happy but Petunia made sure he knew Vernon would return. He was eating a sandwhich in the cupboard that was his room, his legs no longer swallen so he could walk. Just not very well. He was mostly clear of infection and no more bugs and creepy crawlys were to be seen. 

_Slam_

The echoing of a door caused the bread to fly out of his hands and his body to tremble. "You fucking weasle!" 


End file.
